


[Kink Meme Fill] - Monster World Smut

by Stealth_Noodle



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: BDSM, Canon - Manga, Dragon Wang, Elaborate Masturbatory Fantasies, Humor, M/M, Monster World, Porn, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-09 17:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/89855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealth_Noodle/pseuds/Stealth_Noodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rather silly Monster World BDSM adventures of Zork and Yami Bakura.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[Kink Meme Fill] - Monster World Smut

**Author's Note:**

> For a kink meme prompt asking for Zork/Yami Bakura with a submissive Yami Bakura. This happened.

Being the favored servant and avatar of Dark Master Zork had its advantages. By far the greatest of these was black magic so powerful that Bakura could stroll unarmed and unarmored through the most dangerous areas of the kingdom, but the various little privileges of his rank were nothing to sneeze at. Other minions had to queue up at the entrance of the castle and attempt to roll whatever number their dark lord was thinking of that day; Bakura traipsed in and out as he pleased. Second dibs on the prisoners wasn't bad, either, even if they did tend to be a little broken by the time Zork had finished with them.

Of course, the great and powerful Zork didn't bestow such favors without expecting something in return. In Bakura's case, "something" required him to appear in the Dark Master's chamber every fortnight wearing lacy undergarments and entirely too much gold jewelry.

On his way up the tower, Bakura was compelled to kill a goblin that persisted in asking why he was jingling so much under his robes. Zork's army had a surplus of goblins—no sense keeping around the ones that couldn't grasp the idea of a polite fiction. The pokii wandering around nearby seemed less suicidally stupid, but Bakura still had a few homicidal impulses to work out.

At the door to Zork's chambers, he glanced around for any other interlopers, cleaned a stray piece of pokii from his hair, doffed his robe, and let himself inside.

The Dark Master kept his chambers cold, dank, and eerily lit, all conditions that Bakura tended to appreciate more when he wasn't freezing his ass off. Zork's sense of design ran heavily toward artfully arranged chains and skulls used as candle holders; at present, most of the tallow-dripping bones encircled a pillory in the middle of the room. Apparently it was going to be one of those nights.

Bakura cleared his throat and rattled his necklaces together for attention.

With a roar, Zork strode out of the shadows. He had been somewhat more prone to melodrama of late, ever since the incident that had put out one of his eyes and left thick seams across his torso and left shoulder. Pointing any of this out, however, would have been a good way to ensure that Bakura didn't walk right for a week. 

In a voice like a thunderclap, Zork bade him kneel. Bakura obeyed, trying to minimize the scratching of the lace and the clattering of his jewelry, and felt his master's mind begin to probe his. He shivered; the infusion of power dizzied him and caused his eyes to roll back in his head. Bakura was great and ancient, but here was something far greater and unfathomably older, and he _craved..._

A talon hooked beneath his chin, forcing him to raise his head. Bakura stared up with clouded eyes.

"You're late," said the Dark Master. He snapped his fingers in the direction of the pillory.

Still reeling, Bakura rose and staggered over in a bright cacophony of metal. He shook his bangles and necklaces out of the way as he bent over, positioning his wrists and neck in the restraints, then gave a little shiver of anticipation as Zork lowered the top bar and locked him in place. Seemingly of their own accord, fetters closed around his ankles and tugged apart his legs.

"I do not care why you are late." The master towered over him, forcing Bakura to crane his neck back as much as the wooden bar allowed. Zork grabbed his face roughly and rested a claw at the edge of Bakura's eyelid. "You will not be late again."

The logical part of Bakura's brain understood that this display was all rote, that there couldn't even be a "late" when the standing arrangement was no more specific than "night." The illogical part of his brain, drunk on tension and power and razor edges, had already quickened his pulse and begun re-routing his blood southward. The lowermost bits of lace became uncomfortably confining.

With a snarl, Zork shifted his hand to the back of Bakura's head and used the other to undo his belt. "Show me," he said, "that you remember your place."

Closing his eyes was forbidden, but Bakura tried at least not to focus on the thing in front of his lips. It was one thing to have a cock that somewhat resembled a dragon's head, and quite another for it have its own little sharp-toothed mouth. Zork's anatomy was weird even by monster standards.

Bakura ran his tongue along the thing's underside, steeling himself against the rough texture. When it hissed and flicked its own little tongue against his lips, he grimaced and took enough of it into his mouth to suck. Zork's claws gripped his scalp. Despite his careful bracing of himself, Bakura still nearly choked when his master's hips began to buck.

Zork caught a handful of Bakura's hair and yanked his head back, growling, "Who is your Dark Master?"

"Mphm mphmm," Bakura replied. 

Zork hesitated, pulled out of Bakura's mouth, and tried the question again.

"You are." The answer came out in a rasp, exacerbating the ache in Bakura's jaw. The roof of his mouth and the insides of his cheeks felt as if they had been scraped raw. To his further discomfort, Zork's dragon-phallus decided to lick his nose.

With a grunt of approval, Zork circled the pillory and raked his claws down Bakura's back, drawing out a load moan. Bakura' knees buckled.

His breathing grew ragged as he felt the bit of lace he was wearing fall away in shreds. The frigid claws traced over the exposed flesh, then dipped down to run over Bakura's stomach, leaving a trail of shallow scratches and trembling muscles. When the same touch ghosted over his now painfully erect cock, he shook as much as the pillory allowed.

Resting the tips of his claws against Bakura's inner thigh, Zork chuckled and asked, "What are you?"

"Yours." The talons dug in deep. "Yours to—" Bakura's voice cracked as he felt a very small tongue lap at the blood welling up. "I am yours to use."

Zork leaned forward to cup a massive hand around Bakura's chin, curling a finger over his lower lip. "Then you will beg."

Bakura obliged, and sucked the finger without prompting. Less than a minute later he was babbling, incoherent with need and pain, his body trying at once to thrash into and away from the intrusion. Zork's talons bit into his hips to hold him still. Hands scrabbling against the wooden board, Bakura spat out a jumble of curses and demands and was too blasted with sensations to know which he meant.

His master's presence loomed at the edge of his mind, poised to devour. Bakura writhed against it, overcome with craving, until he found that he was begging in earnest. He hissed as Zork's hand reached his face again, then stroked along his jawline up to his nape.

Then metal jangled beneath his chin, and Bakura's air supply cut off as his necklaces dug into his throat.

Zork's consciousness again intruded on his own, diffusing his boundaries and leaving Bakura with no sense of where the master ended and the servant began, no idea whether he was killing or dying, giving or taking, fading to black or bursting into flame. His thoughts scattered in a series of electric explosions.

In the next moment he was Bakura again, sore and and shaking and gasping for air. When the pillory clicked open, only the distribution of his weight kept him from oozing to the floor. He twitched his freed arms, clinking together dozens of bracelets, and let out a breathless, inane cackle.

"I'll expect you again in two weeks," said Zork, giving him a wince-inducing slap on the ass. "Wear something silky."

* * *

Bakura Ryou awoke slumped over his Monster World table, his hands sticky and his pants around his ankles. "Oh, not again," he muttered, taking stock of the mess as he reached automatically for the wet wipes. Zork's many intricate crevices would be a particular pain to scrub out, and his wishes regarding his own figurine had been quite obviously disregarded.

He wished the voice in his head would at least bother cleaning up after itself.


End file.
